


Breaking Barriers

by kazokuhouou



Series: Knocked Up Goalies verse [8]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Older Omega/Younger Alpha, yeah i went there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29969244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazokuhouou/pseuds/kazokuhouou
Summary: “Gretzky? Care to tell me why Jags is passed out on the floor?”“I told him he got me pregnant.”“BAHAHAHAHAHA!”“Yes,thank you, Lemieux,” he said grouchily.“Youcradle snatcher.”“YES, THANK YOU, LEMIEUX!”
Relationships: Wayne Gretzky/Jaromir Jagr
Series: Knocked Up Goalies verse [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615087
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Breaking Barriers

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I went there. Someone had to.
> 
> Ironically enough, this is in the Knocked Up Goalies verse and features no goalies at all.

Wayne had not set out to break barriers when he became the first omega captain in NHL history. He had just wanted to play hockey.

He had only taken the C because he knew it would mean a lot to future omegas that they had someone to look up to, proof that they could be leaders too despite their dynamic.

But that just increased the media scrutiny on him. Every time it looked like it might go south for the Oilers some questioned whether he really was capable of leading his team. Even after all the cups he still had some detractors, and, to be honest, they only got worse when he moved to the Kings.

And of course, any time his jersey or shirts hung on him oddly, they’d wonder if he finally settled down with an alpha and got pregnant.

 _That_ was annoying.

Even putting aside that he didn’t want to take a leave of absence to have a child, there wasn’t any alphas that really interested him enough to mate with. The closest he had considered it was when he struck an odd friendship with Jaromir Jagr at the All-Star Game (mostly through writing each other, as Jaro’s English was still shaky), but he had dismissed that idea. Long distance relationships were tough. And he was too old for Jaro.

So he had dismissed the idea from his mind.

0–0-0-0-0

_7 March, 1992, Los Angeles_

It wasn’t until he saw his hands shake as he changed that he realized why he felt so odd during the game. 

_Oh fuck._

It’s early.

He had weaned himself off the suppressants in order to have his heat at the end of the month, but apparently it was starting to get unpredictable in his age. Wayne hastily finished dressing and practically ran to his car before it could get worse. The last thing he needed were the alphas on the team hovering over him trying to attract his attention.

Fucking pheromones.

He managed to make it home before the heat really started to take hold of him. He slid down to the floor once he shut the door, panting slightly. Already he felt overheated and the unbearable need to be knotted. Heats were overrated.

Then he heard a knock on the door.

He forgot. Jaro was going to come over tonight so they could talk for a bit, it’d be the last chance they get before playoffs.

He couldn’t open the door. He knew if he did, he’d just throw himself at Jaro. He grabbed the pen and paper he leaves by the front door (what? Even delivery drivers get starstruck by him) and hastily scribbled a note. 

_Can’t. In heat._

Making sure the door chain was latched, he opened the door enough to thrust the note at Jaro. He had the door open long enough that he saw Jaro’s hurt confusion...then his pupils dilate as he smelled the pheromones. Wayne shut the door and slid down again. 

“I help...” Jaro said through the door. Wayne’s head shot up.

“You don’t...”

“Yes. I’ll help.” He hesitated. “Wayne, please.”

“You can do better than an old omega like me.”

“Don’t want better. Want you.”

Still he hesitated.

“I’ll go...” he heard Jaro say, dejected. He couldn’t have that.

Swiftly he got back up, undid the lock and opened it, practically tackling Jaro and moaning as he pressed into him.

Jaro moaned back and began walking Wayne back into the house, kicking the door shut and pinning him against the wall to kiss him. He was muttering something in Czech, but Wayne could probably guess what he was saying.

“Need you...” he moaned, “need your knot.”

Jaro nodded, picked him up, and carried him to the bedroom.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Wayne woke up to Jaro on the phone, telling someone on his team, in stilted English, that he’d be late because an emergency had come up and he’d make his own way back to Pittsburgh. He stretched as Jaro hung up, who then climbed on top of him.

He kissed him and Wayne couldn’t help kissing back. He can’t deny it. This was the best heat he had in a long time, since for the first time in forever he shared it with an alpha.

“More?” Jaro asked.

“Don’t think I need more. Want, though.” He wrapped his arms around Jaro and smiled into the kiss. 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

_26 April 1992, Los Angeles_

He felt...just plain _off_.

He occasionally felt nauseous the past few days but he thought it had just been nerves. No matter how many Cups you win playoffs will make you nervous.

But now he felt a bit lightheaded.

He tried to skate it off and he had initially felt better, but he felt woozy again as he talked with Jari and Marty and he stumbled. 

Jari grabbed his arm. “Are you okay? You just went pale.”

Wayne opened his mouth to answer-what he wasn’t sure-when the world went black and he heard Marty screech “WAYNE!”

0-0-0-0-0

He woke up in the medical area to paramedics, a very bemused Tom and a glaring Bruce.

“What?”

“You fainted,” Tom said. 

“Why...”

“Because you’re _pregnant_ ,” Bruce added, still irritated.

Wayne paled. “What.”

“We ran blood work while waiting for the paramedics and it came back positive for pregnancy.”

Oh. _Fuck._ He hadn’t had any sort of protection because he hadn’t anticipated actually getting laid. And Jaro was 19, he still thought with his knot so of course didn’t bring it up.

He facepalmed. 

“You have horrible timing, you know?” Bruce continued. 

“You’re not helping,” he muttered as the paramedics finished checking him and left, satisfied with his answer that he would follow up with his physician. “Can you leave, I need to make a call. Actually, no, wait, can one of you call Pittsburgh?”

“Why?”

“Never mind why!”

Tom raised his hands in a placating manner and went to get the call to go through. Clearly he feared that Wayne would be the temperamental type of pregnant omega.

Bruce eyed him. “It better not be...”

“It’s not Lemieux.” Though he knew he wouldn’t take it much better that it was _Jagr_. God, this was mortifying. He should have just slept with Jari or something.

When Tom said they were through to the locker room he snatched the phone away. “Get me Jagr,” he said. 

“HIM?!”

“SHUT UP!” He yelled, getting Bruce to back up. Okay, maybe he _is_ the temperamental type of pregnant omega.

Meanwhile, Jaro had gotten on the phone. “Hello?”

“Jaro?”

“Wayne? Why are you calling?”

“I….” he sighed. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

“Jaro?”

Two thunks.

“Jaro?!”

He could hear a muffled commotion and then someone said “Hello?”

“Lemieux?”

“Gretzky? Care to tell me why Jags is passed out on the floor?”

“I told him he got me pregnant.”

“BAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Yes, _thank you_ , Lemieux,” he said grouchily.

“You _cradle snatcher_.”

“YES, THANK YOU, LEMIEUX!”

He heard more commotion, Mario cry out in surprise, then he said “he took off!”

“What?”

“Jags took off! He just woke up, grabbed his stuff and left!”

“What? Not a word to you guys?!”

“No! Wayne, if Jaromir’s found at the bottom of the river, as soon as you have your baby I’m kicking your ass.”

Before Mario slammed the phone back on the hook he could hear a Pen screech “Gretzky’s _pregnant_?!”

Great. Now the Pens knew.

He hung up the phone, looking at Tom. “I’m presuming I’m scratched.”

“Course you are. Last thing we need is a hit causing you to miscarry.”

“And if they ask?” They being the media, of course.

“What do you want us to say?”

He thought about it. “Say ‘as a precaution’. I don’t want to announce anything until I get to talk to the other father.” He was more confident than Mario that Jaro wouldn’t do anything stupid.

He spent most of the day and the game thinking about what he was going to do. He hadn’t planned on kids. He just hadn’t. He had wanted to play hockey.

But if not now...when? When he’s older? He’s already 31. If he waited until retirement it might be too late. And...he had to admit it, he was already starting to get used to, and like, the idea of a child. He could make it work. There was always some leniency with newborns, and his family would certainly help.

What of Jaro, though?

He’s only 19. His whole career’s ahead of him, he wouldn’t want to settle down, would he? Especially with an omega older than him. During second period he had called Mario again, and they still hadn’t found him. That wasn’t a good sign.

There was still a bit of a stigma against single omega parents too. (Just another reason for Don Cherry to hate him, he supposed.)

He can’t think about it now. He could hear a commotion and knew the game was over...and the lack of horn meant they lost. 

Great. Game 7.

He went to hide in the showers. He had told the team about his news right away so they wouldn’t worry about him. (They seemed tentatively excited.) All of them knew that if the media saw him they’d hound him on why he’s currently on DTD. (And they didn’t know it’d be IR soon.) So they didn’t say a word as they cleaned up and Wayne hovered in the corner.

He waited a long time for the interviews to be over and the media to be gone before leaving the showers.

And got immediately blindsided by the media waiting for him.

 _Fuck_ , they’re persistent.

They bombarded him with questions about why he got scratched, what was wrong, if this affected morale enough to get the team to lose.

“I am not prepared to comment at this time.”

But they persisted. At least until there was a commotion outside the door. 

“You can’t...” they heard someone say, only to hear a growl at the door. They backed off. 

Mario gasped. “Jaro!”

He looked slightly disheveled, as if he had traveled in a hurry (which, now that he thought about it, he must have), but he was okay.

“Jagr?” he heard a reporter say as Jaro beelined over to Wayne.

“Ooof!” Jaro had hugged him with such enthusiasm that Wayne had to back up a bit to keep from falling over. And normally Wayne would be reluctant to show his more vulnerable side, but you know what? He’s expecting. It’s allowed.

He hugged Jaro back, hiding his face. “Your team’s worried sick about you. They thought they’d find you dead.”

“No. Could only think of here. Of you. Of child.”

“CHILD!?”

Wayne bit back a laugh. “I hadn’t told them yet.”

Jaro at least had the grace to look sheepish.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Jagr’s your mate?!”

"How does it feel to be the first pregnant captain in NHL history?"

“What do the teams think about...”

“OUT!” Jaro yelled, cowing all of them into leaving the room. He turned back to Wayne and continued to hold him. “Okay?”

“Some nausea. I fainted.” Jaro pulled away to look at him in alarm. “I’m fine now. I’m going to follow up with the doctor soon.”

“Wish I could be there,” Jaro said, pulling him back in. 

“You scared Mario. You should call and tell him you’re okay and here.” 

“Soon. Want to be with my mate.”

Now Wayne was the one to pull away. “Are you sure? You’re young, Jaro. You could have any omega you wanted.”

“I told you. Don’t want any omega. Want you.” He placed a hand on Wayne’s stomach. “Want her.”

Wayne smirked. “And what makes you so sure it’s a girl?”

Jaro just winked.

Wayne went back into his arms. “Well, I’m looking forward to when our _son_ is born.”

Jaro chuckled and kissed him.

0-0-0-0-0–0

_18 April 1999, New York City_

If he couldn’t make playoffs one last time, he thought, at least this was a good consolation prize: playing against his mate’s team in front of his family.

Of course Jaro was the first one to skate over to him. He heard cheers as they kissed on the ice. He smiled. “Still love me, Jaro?”

“I dunno, old man, still love me?”

“Always.”

They kissed again before they heard squeals from the New York bench. Someone had brought the twins down to join them.

They had been as surprised as anyone when it turned out they were _both_ right, and their daughter Camille had been hiding behind their son Cyril the whole time. Having twins was rough, especially once he got back on the ice, but they’ve made it work over the years, and now the hard part was over. 

They skated to their children, Camille in the Rangers jersey, Cyril in the Pens, and went to hug them while the world said their farewells to Wayne Gretzky.

**Author's Note:**

> The moral of the story is thus: don't joke about people writing certain pairings, for someone may call your bluff and do it.


End file.
